


-La Malédiction des Amoureux-

by zenxoxo



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, British Comedy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-07 20:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19857685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenxoxo/pseuds/zenxoxo
Summary: Aziraphale’s gotten himself cursed by demons. Crowley can’t comfort him through touch - his best quality. Paired up with a Good Omens version of Hagrid. Will they ever be able to embrace again?





	1. Impurities

**Author's Note:**

> first fic i’ve written in about a year or two so i’m pretty rusty pls be gentle but i hope u enjoy! xoxo

A typical, lacklustre day in London, as they called it. Or at least the humans would. There was this curious, little bookshop a soft fellow owned just down the street. It was a loud, quite lousy morning with the bustling just beginning to sing its song. 

It had been a couple months since Aziraphale and his  _personal acquaintance_ ,  as he called him, to make him annoyed - Crowley, had “saved” the world, though they were still heavily proud of these accomplishments. Everything had seemingly gone to normal, neither Crowley nor Aziraphale had heard from their “sides” about their behavior after the switcheroo stunt they pulled. They didn’t  want  to die, after all. 

“Ah yes, thank you for calling again, Mr. Wright. Could you have that book back to me by next week? Say.. mmhmm.. does that work for you?” This strange, pudgy little man with the hair as outlandish as ecru walls was serving customers in his shop. Thankfully it was never too busy but enough to keep Aziraphale occupied. He soon fitted the phone back into its comfortable resting place before returning to the desk in the back corner, not hearing the bell softly jingle but if it did, he would certainly get up in a second’s time. 

Aziraphale had adjusted his desk closer to the window so he could ever so often peek out and daydream. He was, a dreamer after all. Knowing such desires but perhaps could never have them. As well as knowing Crowley’s favorite spot to park his Bentley. The demon had once thrown a car out of frustration to the next street over. Ah, what a memory.. 

Thinking of Crowley made the angel shudder. It wasn’t a bad reaction, oh Heaven’s no. Aziraphale respected Crowley in a way that no angel ever would, nor any demon would.. anymore, that is. The two shared a bond like no other. Or perhaps.. Aziraphale wondered as his eyes delicately rolled towards a bird hopping through the tree neatly planted down in the cement, maybe..  _it was more than that_?

The melody of the gentle bell was enough to snap Aziraphale from the daze that made his eyes a bit foggy. Upon rubbing them and standing up straight, briefly brushing down his sides and ready to greet those who had just come in the door. As soon as he rounded the corner, however, a foul smell immediately caught within the angel’s nostrils, and he found that his lips would not do as they were told. Three demons, none of which he recognized, were circling around him and eerily approaching closer. One of them, a tall and lanky fellow, snapped his fingers causing the door to lock and the bell to shatter into multiple pieces onto the floor. 

“Ahhh.. Aziraphale. How we’ve been waiting for this moment. Been lookin’ all over for you.” The second demon hissed, their eyes a swirling pool of molten liquid. 

“You’ve got quite the nasty reputation with demons,” The first male gestured to the ground, which we all knew what it meant. “While we couldn’t find your pal, Crowley.. You were easy to locate. You’re gonna be a good pawn and lead him _right_ to us.” The tallest demon growled, standing just a few feet away from the definitely frightened-out-of-his-mind angel. 

“Strip his top off.” One of them commanded, which was done within seconds. Aziraphale still couldn’t speak as his lips felt sewn shut. His pale eyes were wide and some unseen force provoked the angel to allow his wings to sprawl out from both shoulder blades. The black haired demon began to chant in an odd way, in no discernible language that Aziraphale was able to understand. Soon, the demon’s fingertip was coated in a purely black mist that definitely looked like something straight out of Hell or perhaps, horrendously worse. As soon as the fingertip of the demon made contact with the angel’s skin, he screeched as loud as he ever possibly had, even louder than what it would’ve been like standing in that vortex of Hellfire a few months ago. However, due to the rogues’ influences, nobody on the street could detect or hear what was happening inside. 

_Crowley. Crowley. CROWLEY. WAKE UP._

The reddish haired male jerked himself awake from the park he’d dozed off in. Carefully scanning his surroundings, nobody had paid any mind to him just napping beneath a large tree. Perhaps thinking Crowley was some poor bloke just needing a place to sleep. Donning his shades, the one of many, stood up and blinked a few times to clear the exhaustion from his eyes. His Bentley was still within his vision -as she always was- but Crowley didn’t feel like leaving the park just yet. He hadn’t seen Aziraphale in about a week. How perplexing to him,  a demon, that an angel would be the first thought to slip its clear self into his mind. It wasn’t like them both to be apart for so long, though Crowley was more of a lone wolf, both of them knew this well. However, a struggle in his chest, not a heartbeat definitely, was dragging at him to go to the bookshop. A simple visit, a hello, perhaps a small sip of wine and he’d leave. Yeah, that would work. 

_But what in Satan’s name, Aziraphale?!_ Crowley grunted to himself while crawling into the driver’s side of the clean Bentley. How dare that angel ignore him for an entire week, not even a phone call! Aziraphale  _HAD_ a phone, could he seriously not use it? Even just for a bloody checkup? Or even invite him to lunch? The demon could feel the heat emanating off his head and shoulders as if a steam train about to blow. He’d certainly give that damned angel a piece of his mind. Crowley felt a bit guilty after about thinking of Aziraphale as damned. 

Within minutes, Crowley could see the bookshop coming into view. Nothing  appeared out of the ordinary to him at least. Before swerving into his favored parking spot, he hissed a swear at some mongrel that he’d almost run over. That only dampened his mood even more. Adjusting his jacket and leaving the Bentley, making sure she was secure first, of course. Not that Crowley wouldn’t be able to track his precious car if she was jacked, of course. 

The atmosphere around the bookshop was off and eerie. Not a single one of the lights were lit and it appeared that no customers were moseying around within. Crowley would have left, thinking Aziraphale was not home if it hadn’t been for the handle of the door clattering to the ground, making a small metallic jingle as it fell. That caught the demon’s attention, and a feeling to him that even caused some array of uncertainty to what he would find. 

Crowley cautiously slipped up to the door and attempted to pry it open but it was still locked from the inside which only made the demon somewhat more concerned but more weirded out than anything. How was he meant to get inside without making this seem like a break-in? 

Oh well. The demon didn’t hesitate to lift his foot and make a powerful thrust against the olden wood, causing it to split from the bottom half way up, and just barely swing open due to the momentum. Immediately an unearthly feeling overtook Crowley and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. Craning his head around the doorway, Aziraphale was nowhere to be seen. Crowley was beyond perplexed at this point and hesitantly decided to take a few painstaking steps into the shop. 

It wasn’t until then after a few seconds of snooping he saw a hand. A pale hand, only visible by its lonesome whereas whatever was left was hidden behind the wall where Aziraphale’s desk had been moved. Crowley had a flare of anxiety wave over his entire body, a fear he’d never felt before - and had no idea where the courage came from to check. 

It was there, on the ground, the demon’s truest nightmare was revealed - witnessing Aziraphale on the floor, unconscious and half stripped down to his trousers, wings bloodied and covered in what looked to be a blackened mass of veins that covered the angel’s entire shoulders. Crowley was more than speechless - it took more than Satan’s strength to keep him standing at the sight and not stumble backwards. 

Finally, Crowley was able to move after a few seconds and felt himself crashing onto his knees, bending his head over and trying to figure out what in Satan’s name had occurred here. He attempted to rouse Aziraphale but it was unfortunately to no avail. He could tell that the angel was still shakily breathing, but they were raspy and it did not seem like they would stay for long. 

The redheaded demon stood up and rushed to the phone on Aziraphale’s desk and dialed a number only known to himself and other demons. This was going to be a long shot decision but Crowley was out of options. Whatever Hell plagued the angel was unknown to him. 

“Come on, come on, you lazy bloke.. answer the damned phone!” Crowley yelled in a half panic, curling his free hand into a fist on the desk. 

Cut to a quite bulky man chomping on sweets, eagerly watching an array of multicolored fish in a fish tank.  _Gah_ ,  he groaned in thought as his phone kept ringing consistently. The large man swung around and quite flamboyantly held up the phone to his ear. “Allo, this be Cresil, demon of laziness an’ impurity, I ain’t takin phone calls righ’ now—“ 

“I  _SWEAR_ Cresil if you hang up this phone—“ 

Cresil let out a hearty laugh that caused his chest to shake softly. “Well, if it ain’ me good mate Crawly! What’s made ye call me up after a millennium, aye?” The heavier demon slid back up to his fish to eye them most carefully. 

“It’s  _Crowley_. Listen, I.. uuaaah.. might,  _hypothetically_ \-  need your.. help.” Crowley had to swallow the word. He never spoke something so nicely to another demon, especially not this fool.

“Not even an allo, huh?” Cresil responded over the phone, sounding quite dejected. “Ye be callin’ me, years later, and nay an allo! So typical of ye, Crawly. Ah.. whatever. What do ye want?” 

It took all of Crowley’s inner power to not spit a swear at this huge baby, but he knew he had to contain it if was the only way to get the angel any help. “Aziraphale. The angel of the Eastern Gate, you know him? Short, pale and awkward. Runs a bookshop in London.” 

“Aye, wha bout ‘im?” 

“I’ve found him in his shop. Looks like he was attacked but I don’t know by what. A fuckin’ catastrophe it is. He’s bleeding and there’s this, strange pattern around his shoulders. A black ink, kind of? I can’t tell. It’s unknown to me.” Crowley heard some shuffling over the line, only to have Cresil return with a mouthful of food, making it somewhat difficult to understand him. 

“Aye, nev’ heard o’ that before. S’pose ye want me to come ‘n take a look?” The burly demon continued to hastily chew over the phone, causing Crowley to wrinkle his nose in disgust. 

“He’s running out of time, Cresil. Everything about this just reeks of those bastards underneath.” Crowley had little, actually no explanation to this. Cresil was his only hope now. Over the phone the heavy demon agreed to be there in a moments time, he said. Crowley once again bent down to try and return any consciousness to Aziraphale but still, nothing in return. 

Crowley could tell when Cresil arrived. The whole building shook and wobbled at his enormous size and strength. He had to bend down halfway just to get in through the doorway. The larger demon smelled overbearingly of pastries and somewhat of what a farm would smell like. He wore a large black coat with a buttoned down shirt underneath and regular brown trousers. He swore the buttons were due to pop off at any given time. 

“Awright, where’s the wee lad, Crawly?” Cresil had a deep, brooding voice but it held little to no harshness unlike most demons. If anything, you’d think he was just an oversized human with a large beard. Crowley stood and attempted to sit Aziraphale up but to much a shock, his hands suddenly burned like wildfire at the touch, causing the demon to flinch back in an instant. 

“Aye, this already ain’ lookin’ good.” The large demon carefully bent down and hovered his massive hand over the angel’s shoulders, mixed with a face of disgust and vile. “Oi, this ain’ good, mate. He’s been afflicted wi’ a curse. The Curse of Lovers, I reckon. Seen the damned thin’ only once in me life.” 

Crowley furrowed his brows in confusion, hovering over the desk though even wearing his shades, clearly his expression was rot with worry. “So.. what in Satan’s name is that? Can we wake him up at all? Or better yet, will he even  _live_? ”

“Aye.. he’ll live, an I can wake ‘im up. This particular curse prevents th’ person he loves most unable to touch ‘im. Each time it will spread, once it does entirely, it will kill ‘im. However.. there be an antidote dow’ in the catacombs, but it’ll be one long search, lad.” Cresil placed his hand on the desk to assist him in standing, hearing the craft creak due to the heavy bulk of the male demon, but thankfully it didn’t go under. “An considerin’ ye be his best friend ‘n all, I’d take me best guess that’s ye.” 

Crowley felt a frog in his throat. He didn’t fathom any of this, or why it would happen. His mind only went to demons, but they couldn’t lay curses on anybody, let alone angels.. could they? “I’ve got a pretty damn good idea on who did this.” His voice sounded hoarse as if he’d been talking for hours. Cresil rubbed his bearded chin in deepest thought and could only shrug. 

“Iunno, Crawly. But whatever this be, or whoever done it.. is extremely crafty ‘n dangerous.” 


	2. Intangible

It had been weeks now. Aziraphale continued to drift in and out of consciousness. It wasn’t enough for Crowley to make sense of the babbling the angel spewed at times during these spells. There was still no word from Cresil about the antidote. Crowley hadn’t left the angel’s side the entire time, considering he was always extremely loyal to his partner in crime. _Partner_.

It did ache him knowing that he could not touch the angel, the warm, yet light and heavenly feeling Crowley would experience upon doing so. How was he meant to explain that Aziraphale was cursed? Perhaps the best course of action was to find out who did this and what the angel recalled about the attack.

Crowley had been staring blankly outside of the window near the bookshops’ desk, studying the people who walked by, scouting for suspicious characters. It was nighttime by now, with the moon glittering high in its home while the stars stretched and filled the night’s vast blanket. Aziraphale was still unconscious on the nearby sofa, only rousing every so often to mutter ambiguous garbage. Each shuffle caused Crowley to immediately turn his head in hopes that the angel had finally awoken, but his shoulders would slump more with each disappointment.

“Nggghhh..” Aziraphale exhaled through a weak breath, finally able to part his eyelids and witness a fuzzy room ahead of him, causing the pounding in his head to become stronger. The angel attempted to sit up but an overflow of weakness forbade him from doing so. It didn’t take long for his increasingly paled eyes to scan the shop and see Crowley sitting at his desk, drumming his fingers in rhythm against the windowsill. “C-Crowley.. my dear..” The pale angel’s voice was quiet with little to no effort into it. That was about as much of his strength as he had left.

That immediately forced the redhead to leap to his feet and whirl around with a powerful huff of relief, lifting the chair and pulling it up towards the sofa. Crowley sat in the chair backwards and just stared at the mass of exhaustion before him. It took every fibre of his body to withhold the urge to reach out and stroke the angel’s face. “Angel - who did this to you? What do you remember? I need to know - it’s urgent.”

Aziraphale blinked hard before shifting his position, clearly struggling to sit up, clenching pretty much every muscle in his arms to do so. He had to take a break while leaning on an elbow before being able to fully sit straight. Breathing heavily, he responded - “I-I.. don’t remember, Crowley. All I can recall.. is.. a searing pain.. in my shoulders.. and I blacked out..” Crowley was visibly upset at the news, but more than relieved that Aziraphale was awake and talking. His condition didn’t seem to have worsened, but one wrong move, and.. “..Wait.. I remember.. an awful scent before being ambushed.. there were three figures.. or two.. no, three, yes it was.. they chanted something - I didn’t understand it.. Crowley.. be honest - what’s happened to me?”

Crowley’s hands gripped the spine of the chair, his breathing becoming wrapped in rage. “Goddamn demons.. goddamn them to Hell!” He shouted, banging his fist on the desk, startling Aziraphale. “I will find them, angel. I promise you. Those bastards will never hear the end from me.” Yet he still didn’t answer Aziraphale’s inquiry. Upon glancing at the angel with his expression still fuming, it did soften a bit when he noticed how frightened Aziraphale was. “Don’t get soft on me. You, aaah..” He paused, the word ‘cursed’ getting frozen in the middle of Crowley’s throat, unable to throw it up. “Had.. an accident.” Great job, Crowley. Nailed it. He resisted the mighty urge to facepalm and burn a hole in his face.

Aziraphale only reflected back with a clueless expression. “What kind of accident was this?” The angel would keep pressing Crowley until he was given a proper explanation. He reached out to touch the demon’s hand, only for it to quickly be pulled back before they embraced. The angel flinched a little, clearly saddened at the reaction. He decided to say nothing more at that moment before reaching back and stroking the uprisen veins around his wings. “W-what is this..?”

Suddenly, the phone on the desk began to chime, nearly causing the both of them to jump two feet in the air. Crowley didn’t hesitate to stand up and pull the handle up to his ear, hoping the call would be what he had been waiting for.

“Aye, is that ye Crawly? It’s me, Cresil. I - sorta found what ye lookin’ for. Though, it’s gotta bit o’ bad news I’m afraid. See ye here, it says ‘n order to find th’ antidote, ye gotta meet up with ye friend’s attackers. They be waitin’ in the Chislehurst Caves. Damned bastards must’a stole the real antidote.” Crowley hissed in frustration, but perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. It would give him the chance to face Aziraphale’s attackers once and for all.

“Shit.. you’re coming with me, Cresil. I’m not taking Aziraphale with me. Not in his condition.” Crowley peered back at the angel who was still trying to preen the feathers off his shoulders and figure out what was on his backside. He hoped it wasn’t hurting or anything like that. The demon sighed and moved his head away, glad that the angel was occupied enough to not ask who was on the phone. Or so he thought.

“There’s something you’re refusing to tell me, Crowley.” Aziraphale spoke out of turn, feebly standing and ripping the phone out of the demon’s hand, just narrowly missing the touch that would send painful sparks throughout both their bodies. Crowley glared at him, but clearly taken aback by the angel’s demeanor shift. “First I wake up with little to no memory, you’re here talking on the phone, you won’t tell me what you know, and you won’t even - even - touch me or - or anything!” 

“I’ve told you everything!” Crowley attempted to plead. He didn’t want Aziraphale angry, but he felt himself becoming heated. He didn’t know what to do or say. “Go ahead, have a go at me for helping you! You would’ve died without _my_ help just like back in Armageddon!” Crowley shouted right in the angel’s face, just inches from the other. The demon panted shakily from yelling, his eyes a clear orange and yellow skyline of rage.

Aziraphale stood up straight without a sound and half stuck his nose up in the air, brushing down his clothes. “Well. I have just one thing to say to you, Mr. Crowley. ..You really are a _demon_.” His voice faulted near the end, as if he was about to sob. The angel hobbled with a limp towards the door, scoffing when seeing that it was broken halfway through. Crowley, as enraged as he was, couldn’t let Aziraphale leave. Not in his frail condition. That blasted angel would get himself killed.. or Crowley would do it first.

The demon quickly ran after Aziraphale to catch up with him. He was struggling down the stairs, but didn’t bother to acknowledge when Crowley crawled through the door. He went to reach a hand out, but stopped himself, knowing what would happen if he did. If he lost control. Crowley’s lips quaked for lust and had been this entire time. It had never occurred to him just how much it was hurting to not touch Aziraphale. His friend. His love interest.

Regardless, without a care in the world, Crowley grabbed onto Aziraphale’s wrist to prevent him from walking any further, only to greet them both with a searing pain throughout their bodies, shared equally except the angel felt it worse, the wound on his shoulders festering and lengthening the veins down his spine. Aziraphale didn’t hesitate to scream in the purest of agony, tumbling halfway down the stairs only to catch himself at the last step, his entire chest heaving and eyes wider than the moon above them.

Crowley recovered quicker from the ordeal, his hand still stinging from the cursed encounter. His shades had fallen off and clattered a few inches away to reveal a teary spectacle of glowing sunset. “It isn’t that I didn’t want to touch you! It’s.. that I _couldn’t_ , you brainless, stubborn angel!” He struggled to catching his footing as they both stood just a couple stair steps away, gawking at what had just occurred. “Angel.. come back inside. I’ll explain it to you. You’ll get yourself killed.”

Aziraphale almost hesitated and wanted to punch the demon in the face whether it pained him or not, but knowing himself, he would wimp out immediately. The angel supposed it would be nice to hear him out and just understand what the bloody hell was happening to him - them both. What a goddamned pacifist Aziraphale was.

Back inside the shop, Crowley was pained not only with the lingering stinging in his palm, but the guilty of forcing himself to hurt Aziraphale. It’s not like he could let the angel leave and get killed, right? He wanted anything but that. What he wanted most was to find this bloody antidote. Aziraphale was clearly suffering from the after affects of the shock. His limp had gotten worse and it took him nearly fifteen minutes to make tea. He still offered a cuppa to Crowley, much to his surprise, but declined.

As soon as they were both sat down, a very awkward silence coated the atmosphere between them. Aziraphale held the warm tea in both hands as he felt chilled, but hadn’t sipped it at all. His stomach felt as if it was in knots. He couldn’t even pass a glance to the demon across from him who was also avoiding the angel’s soft glare.

Finally, it was Crowley who broke the silence. “Look - angel. I found you unconscious in your shop. You had these.. these strange veins on your wings and shoulders. I’d never seen it before. I couldn’t remove it from you or wake you up. I had to find help since I thought you wouldn’t wake up. Ended up calling a very old demon friend of mine, Cresil, who specializes in impurities and told me you’d been cursed. The Lover’s Curse he called it. It prevents me - from touching you. If I do.. you experience the worst pain imaginable and worse, closer t—.. to death.” Crowley inhaled deeply and laggardly glanced up from the floor to the angel, still having not donned his shades.

Aziraphale felt numb. Dumbfounded. Nothing had clicked in his head about any of this. A curse? On him? An angel? That was absurd. It couldn’t be reality. Though it did explain that searing agony he felt when Crowley touched him.. but it can’t be. How could he have been so unfair to Crowley? To call him a demon.. that is what he actually is, but Aziraphale meant it to inflict the most mental dagger possible. “How.. how are we meant to fix this, my dear?” Crowley’s dead heart might’ve just fluttered at being called that again.

“Cresil found a note in our catacombs. We have to meet with your attackers in Chislehurst Caves. You know, the one in southeast London. It’s most definitely a trap, but I - I don’t think I can go without touching you. I have to get that antidote.” Crowley sighed out of relief to get all of that out of his system. He was fretful enough of Aziraphale’s well-being but what he hated more was having the angel upset with him.

“Then I’m going.” Aziraphale blurted out without a second thought. Crowley was just about to press concern, but the angel’s confirmed gaze stopped him. “Don’t you dare try to talk me out of this. You are not risking your life for me, without me. If we fail, we fail together, my dear.” The demon couldn’t talk him out of this one. It was clear to the both of them. They needed to call back Cresil and figure out a plan. Or a backup plan if necessary.

“Say.. angel.” Crowley inquired towards the other, while he was drawing on a map of the caves.

“What is it, my dear?”

“Do you still have your flaming sword?” Aziraphale flashed a flamboyant grin and limped off to a locked trunk hidden beneath one of the bookshelves to unlock it.

“You didn’t really think I’d given the mailman the real one, did you? Not after all the mockery you’ve given me over the years.” Aziraphale lifted the lid to the trunk to reveal a thickly clothed item, in the shape of a sword. Letting the cloth smoothly slide off, it immediately set ablaze, startling the angel. “H-hot! Hot!” He took one hand from the hilt and fanned it in the air, whimpering ever so slightly.

“You idiot. It’s fire, what did you expect?” Crowley couldn’t help but smile and laugh at his best friend’s absurdity.

_I really do love him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks! here’s a quick list of songs i listened to that helped me bring this fic together! please do give them a listen! 
> 
> 💜- gravity of love, enigma  
> \- carnations, mr. kitty  
> \- destroy me, mr. kitty  
> \- evaporating sun, mr. kitty  
> \- dark passenger, teeel  
> \- no one is ever going to want me, giles corey  
> \- downlovers, DyE  
> \- sadie, the bunny the bear💜


	3. Worldcore

Aziraphale found himself unable to sleep that night. They were leaving tomorrow at high noon for the caves.  It’s most certainly a trap. Crowley had told him. There was no doubt. They were either going to be attacked again, tortured, or.. what else could be worse? Sighing, the angel sat up and rubbed the side of his face. How did he get mixed up in this bloody mess? 

He managed to stand by himself this time - not that he had any other option - and make himself another tiny cup of tea. He did drink this one, though. It always made him feel warm and safe, somehow, yet it barely helped this time around. Crowley was fast asleep on the floor, having muddled around some books into a makeshift bed.  He’s probably slept on worse.  It was likely days since the demon had slept. 

Aziraphale had time to reflect on the situation at hand. Heading to the caves tomorrow, with Crowley and his friend, and don’t forget the sword!  _Yes, yes the sword.. of course. For safekeeping_. 

An hour had passed and the angel had finally managed to fall into a deep slumber. It didn’t feel right to sleep having Crowley so far away, but he was meant to rest before tomorrow, as they were about to head straightforward into the Chislehurst Caves. 

x 

_Meanwhile.. a week ago_..  A slippery, devious rat-like bloke with a flashlight in hand was traversing through the caves, lost as a blind bat. “This is ridiculous.. why’d I have to get stuck setting up this damned trap..” The demon had placed a plentiful of dark magic around a secret room in one of the caves. A mural of a Fallen angel was in the same room, which kept making the man twitch uncomfortably. “Didn’t have to remind me, you bastard.” He hissed at the mural, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. 

x

“Crowley. Crowley. It’s already late, dear. You’ve got to get up.” Aziraphale hovered over the demon, extremely careful not to fall onto him or touch him. He did not want to experience what they did last night again. The angel felt tired, had he only slept a couple of hours. Though, it was better than nothing, wasn’t it? 

“Five more minutes.. Then we can save the world..” The redhead muttered in his daze, flopping quite hilariously onto his stomach, looking like he’d just had a rough night of drinking. The angel huffed with a pout and grabbed a fireplace prong to prod Crowley in the side multiple times. 

“Dearest Crowley. We’ve got to get a move on. You can’t dilly-dally now.” Finally, this was enough to rouse the demon and he sat up, snatching the prong with a snarl on his face. 

“Alright, enough! Stop touching me with that bloody device. You’re lucky I can’t touch you right now.” Crowley’s frown only deepened when Aziraphale couldn’t help but chuckle at him. At least the angel seemed to be in higher spirits than yesterday. Considering they saved the world and all, this appeared to be a cakewalk between the two of them. 

“Right then. Grab your stuff, Crowley. Have you got the map?” The demon lifted his hand and flashed it between his fingers. The duo gathered up everything they’d needed with a last minute check and crawled through the (still) broken door and into Crowley’s beloved Bentley. As soon as they sat down, the angel peered over at him. “You do realize you owe me for those damages, right dear?” 

Crowley was ready to burn his ears off. Such a damned prissy Aziraphale could be a lot of the time. “So, I come to _your_ rescue and I owe you for shop damages? You are, in fact, ridiculous.” He spat at him, mocking the male in the other seat. Aziraphale huffed in response and gradually grew a dull expression, having stayed silent until Crowley, perhaps London’s most erratic driver, pulled out of the space. 

It was no secret that Aziraphale  _despised_ driving with Crowley. He was very unrelenting with each swerve and turn, just narrowly missing pedestrians each time. One of these days, this demon is going to give him a heart attack. Though, if Aziraphale was driving, they’d barely be going 10 mph. 

“Are we going to pick up Cresil, Crowley?” The angel inquired, trying to keep his heart in his throat as they approached a much darker part of London, thick and grey blankets stretching over the world for miles. 

“No. He’s meeting us there. Bastard would probably tip my Bentley over anyway.” Aziraphale was confused at this statement, but deducted it was better to just not inquire more until they’d gotten to the caves. 

An hour had passed and the duo finally arrived at the Chislehurst Caves. Aziraphale did do a small amount of research before they left, finding out that this was a tourist destination for folk outside of London. Quite popular, in fact. Crowley parked his Bentley on the street, close to the entrance but well hidden in case they needed to make a hasty escape. 

“Aye, laddies..” A bellowing whisper came from behind the duo as they exited the car, a large burly man covered in gear running towards them. Aziraphale was startled to see this man, as this was his first time doing so. Crowley just appeared irritated but also somewhat relieved as well. “Glad t’ see ye up ‘n standin’, angel.” Cresil said to Aziraphale. 

“Oh! Oh, my.. you’re.. quite the fellow, aren’t you?” Aziraphale complimented, very badly. He’d never seen someone, let alone a demon, so large, yet he held a friendly aura about him. “Oh for Heaven’s sake.. it seems as though the caves are closed today.. and there are two guards outside the entrance.” The trio all wrapped their heads around the cliff that blocked themselves from view of the guards. Naturally, correct the angel was, as two men stood stone statued at each side of the cave entrance. Crowley scowled and bit the inside of his lip. 

“They just couldn’t have made it easy, could they?” He mumbled in a desolate whisper. “Come on angel, miracle them away. You’ve done it before, at the airfield.” Aziraphale shook his head quite crossly at Crowley. 

“No, no, - _absolutely_ not!  I can’t bear to do that again. Poor fellow at the airfield, I’ve no idea where I’d sent him. It could be the desert for Heaven’s sake!” Aziraphale made many comfortless ticks and Crowley was fuming. This was when Cresil stepped forward, having had enough of these two’s foolhardy bickering. 

“Move aside, ye pansies. Watch this.” Lifting his massive arm and loudly snapping two of his fingers, a small, smokey fire was set onto one of the dry brushes nearby. This alerted the two guards instantly and they tripped over each other to try and put it out with their shiny top garments. “Ye can distract ‘em w’out hurtin’ ‘em, ye know? C’mon lads. Before they finish.” Cresil stepped out of the hiding place first, followed by Aziraphale, then Crowley right behind them, surveying for any suspicions. 

Once the trio snuck past the guards, quite simplistically, they were inside the caves. Trunks of endless, rusty rock grew from beneath the ground below and spread out into the ceiling, causing multiple ways leading deeper into the caverns. Icicles of rock scattered themselves in rows along the walls, sharp as needles. Cresil stretched his own pack of supplies and hauled out a large flashlight, allowing it to dimly illuminate their surroundings in an orange glow. 

Forever they kept delving into the twists and turns, not exactly admiring, but studying the melded faces chiseled into the dark brown clay. “I don’t like a thing about this place,” Aziraphale hushed with his body a tad tense. They were here for him, to cure him from this curse, but the angel didn’t trust these caves not one bit. “How far must we go?” He hoped it wasn’t for much longer. 

“Righ’ here, lads. Hol’ on a momen’.” Cresil let his body bag slip off his shoulder and straightened up tall to lift his flashlight up to the map he had in hand, Crowley’s map, which they’d been scarcely using. “This be it.” Aziraphale’s heart sunk straight into his gut when he glanced upwards. 

A large stone wall covered in depictions of demons, skeletons with demonic masks, cloaked figures, and serpents loomed above the trio, emanating a building. “You’re sure this is it?” Crowley inquired skeptically, stepping up to the wall and caressing one of the serpents heads, some of the dust coating his fingers. Nobody’d been here in a long time. 

Aziraphale gawked at the demon. “P-Pardon? Not the right place? Crowley, this is the only wall with _demons_ on it! But.. it doesn’t look like a door, nor any way to get in..” Crowley stood there against the wall itself, eyeing it in massive curiosity. 

“Only way is to find out, yeah? Hold my jacket, angel.” The demon shifted off his top and tossed it onto Aziraphale who caught it in both arms, clutching onto it with care. Crowley rolled his wrists before clutching onto two of the horns of the demons, attempting to push the wall to see if he would knock a switch. Unfortunately, the wall wouldn’t budge, no matter how much weight Crowley put against it. 

“Dearest, that’s enough! I don’t think it’s going to open that way. Keep watch would you, my good fellow?” The angel gestured to Cresil, who gratefully turned around with flashlight in hand. He cautiously climbed to the wall, just inches from Crowley who appeared shocked considering how frightened Aziraphale was just a few moments ago. Both of them searched every nook and cranny for a way to make the door just budge a smidgen. After a few minutes, it seemed hopeless, if not for Aziraphale yanking hard on one of the devil’s horns towards himself. 

A loud rumbling reverberated throughout the walls of the caves, pebbles lightly trembling on the ground with a massive  CLICK and everything went back to pure silence. Without warning, the towering wall began to slide backwards, leaving skid marks against the rocky floor as it moved. It now began to retract upward, much like a garage door would if prompted to. 

Nothing but darkness in a much smaller tunnel awaited them. All three exchanged glances, with Aziraphale having the most smug of all. Crowley, being the thinnest, crawled through first with Cresil using the flashlight to help guide him through the way. He was able to squeeze onto the other side, followed by Aziraphale, into a much larger room with a rock slab lain in the middle and surrounded by unlit candles. 

“Aye laddies, that be the furthest I can get. I be o’ here waitin’ fer ye. Holler if som’in goes awry, ye?” Cresil pushed his flashlight down the tunnel until it clattered onto the floor, the light flickering multiple times from the crash until finally relighting. The two of them set down their belongings near the tunnel, Aziraphale not hesitating to grab the flaming sword from his pack. The sword instantly caught a spark and gave the whole room a spice of color, the flames’ shadows dancing and mending along the room. 

“What in Heaven’s name do you fathom this room is? Quite dull.” Aziraphale approached the stone slab and blew on it, coughing at the amount of rock dust that dispersed in the air. Crowley had barely been listening but kept the angel in the corner of his eye at all times. They were safe at the moment, with Cresil waiting outside if they were ambushed. They were so close and couldn’t give up now. 

The mural on the wall caught Crowley’s eye. Glaring up at it, the spasm of remembering shot through him. Recalling the convulsing throbbing of having the Lord’s light drained from your body, the ecru stripped from his wings, feeling the coldest winter chill and never to bask in Heaven’s light again. 

“Crowley, dear, what are you looking at?” The angel hobbled to his side, very deliberate to not make contact with him at all. Lifting the sword to brighten the stained picture on the wall, Aziraphale noticed the demon visibly flinching away from his side. “I see.. but you do know, that whether you are a demon or not.. I still love you.” 

_I still love you._ Crowley ceased in his tracks and felt himself melt on the inside, but only chuckled to not showcase his flustered expression. “C’mon, angel. It’s been six-thousand years, I’m not upset about that anymore. Plus, I quite dig the black wings.” Aziraphale pouted briefly at his lacklustre response, but smiled. It felt good to get those words out - if this was the last he was to see of Crowley. 

“I’m not seeing the antidote anywhere. Those damned bastards might’ve gotten the upper hand on us.” Crowley stated against the silent room, circling on his heels to saunter back over to the tablet when noticing a simple white paper lodged in the middle. He knew immediately that it would trigger a trap. But what trap would it provide? Arrows from the walls? Cliche. Some kind of poison? Not a demon’s first choice. He gradually extended his hand to grab the paper, and tugged it out — except nothing happened. Crowley furrowed his eyebrows.  _Something’s wrong. What are we missing?_

It hadn’t occurred to Crowley that dark spells were at play, travelling at the speed of light through the room and the whole area began to quake wildly, almost knocking the demon to his knees. “Angel! This is a trap — Get out of here, _NOW!_ ” This quake nearly gave the angel a heart attack, but he refused to budge until knowing that Crowley was right behind him. The quaking only grew worse, boulders tumbling down from the ceiling which alerted Cresil, begging them to crawl through the tunnel. Aziraphale slipped through first, rolling out at the larger demon’s feet, the adrenaline running at a high through his veins. 

Crowley was about to get into the tunnel until he felt an immense heat being pressed against his throat. A taller demon stood behind him, holding a dagger right near his jugular. One jerked move and he’d be out of a body. Wouldn’t be a half bad idea, instead of being stuck in a room full of rocks. “You’re not going anywhere, Crowley. You better say your goodbyes now.” The lanky male hissed into his ear. 

Aziraphale peered through the tunnel, clear panic in his laboured breathing. Why wasn’t Crowley following him? “Crowley, please! You cannot stay in there!” He was prepared to slip back through for him, if not for hearing Crowley’s voice. A sentence he never wanted to hear in his life. 

“I can’t.” The demon’s voice was nettled and shaky. “You need to leave now, angel. Leave me here. I’ll find another way out. I promise you.” He felt himself being pulled further from the tunnel’s entrance - further from Aziraphale. The warmth Crowley felt being around him was turning chilled. He wanted so desperately to cover his ears as Aziraphale’s pleading wails made him flinch. 

“No, no _no_! I am  not leaving you! You’re ridiculous if you think I’m leaving you in there!” Aziraphale shrieked, but the force of Cresil was too much for his weakened state to struggle against. “Unhand me this instant! I need to save my best friend!” 

“Relax. I always get out of trouble, don’t I?” Crowley chuckled, acting nonchalant as possible despite still being held by a dagger and eventually shoved onto his knees with a grunt. “Oh, by the way.. I love you too, angel.” 

A boulder cut off contact between the room itself and the outside world, the rumbling and quaking still wracking the room and areas surrounding it. Cresil grabbed the angel by the forearm and began dragging him along the ground using all of his might to get him further away from the tunnel. 

“CROWLEY!  _CROWLEY_!!” Aziraphale cried out repeatedly. Cresil finally managed to haul them both underneath the stone wall with the depictions which had been closing as soon as the earthquake shook the secret room. Once it made contact with the ground, all of the shaking stopped instantly. Aziraphale was hysterical at what had just happened, mustering his strength to grapple at the demon’s horn that had opened it from the beginning, which now would cease to budge. He backed up in disbelief, tripping over a ledge and tumbling onto his arse. The angel couldn’t stop himself from starting to sob uncontrollably. His neat clothes had been tainted now in dust and soot but that was the least of his concerns. Seeing his best friend, his partner -soulmate even-, being ripped from him in an instant. It caused Aziraphale to regret everything from the start, starting a partnership with him, saving the world together, being on ‘their own’ side. This stung worse than the stupid curse he contracted. 

Cresil had gathered himself and heaved through deep breaths until managing to stand, seeing the angel just a few inches away, feeling massively awful for having to put him through that. A paper on the ground caught his eye however, which the larger demon didn’t hesitate to pick up and unravel. 

“Aye, laddie..” Cresil began, shifting his gentle dark green eyes up, down and all around the paper. “It ain’ all bad..” Aziraphale couldn’t fathom what he was hearing. Not that  _BAD?_

“I.. I just lost my best friend, you.. you..!” The angel struggled on an insult for the large oaf. As upset as he was, he didn’t feel right for insulting Cresil as it wasn’t his fault - for the most part. The taller male waved his hand dismissively when his eyes suddenly lit up in hope. 

“Nay, I understand, laddie.. but we have the antidote.” Aziraphale froze and peered up through misty eyes, scrabbling to his feet and joining Cresil to gander at the paper. This meant one thing to him, and one thing only. 

_I’m coming back for you, my dear. I promise_.


	4. Hands

♫ _You told me once_

_I told you twice_

_The choice you made_

_Was not too wise_ ♫

“Well.. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” Crowley snickered to himself as he was being closed in on by two other demons, these three he assumed being the ones who attacked Aziraphale in the first place. He had no idea what awaited him, but he wasn’t frightened, as they didn’t have access to anything that could necessarily  _kill_ him. There had to be a way out of this, there just had to be. For Aziraphale’s sake. He fondly remembered not giving up and having a burst of imagination when the angel’s bookshop was on fire. 

_Someone killed my best friend_!  The memory left a taste in Crowley’s mouth, a bittersweet one. That must have been what Aziraphale was experiencing right now. _I’m getting out of here, angel. Just you watch me_. Crowley felt the dagger tighten at his throat, almost piercing through the skin of his body, but just missing that single inch. Much to his confusion, the choking sensation from the knife suddenly lessened, but Crowley was kicked to the ground with his face buried in the dirt. His shades shattered due to the impact but were still left hanging half off of his face, as he gradually recovered from the shock. 

“This was just a ruse to get you here, you know that right?” The tallest demon spoke darkly from behind Crowley. “You two would be dangerous enough on your own.. but we planned for this. Little do you know.. we still have the antidote.” A medium-sized paper was being waved in the air. “We gave a paper to that large oaf.. but that’s actually poison.” All three of them chuckled with a darkness in their throats, gravelly and malicious. 

The smallest demon of the trio twitched and approached closer, stomping his boot onto Crowley’s hand, causing it to nearly break. He immediately grimaced in excruciation. Well, there goes his dominant hand. “You’ve no reason to fight, Crowley. You’re trapped in here, so it’s either you, or us. Your friend has no chance of surviving that poison.” 

Crowley, while still reeling from the searing burn of his crushed appendage, managed to shift both eyes up, noticing Aziraphale’s flaming sword glittering under one of the boulders separating them from the outside. The angel must have dropped it, either somehow knowing what would happen, or just out of sheer fear and didn’t think to take it with him. If only he could distract these bastards somehow.. 

“Say, you three, you never did tell me what your intentions were.” Crowley started in a half pained voice, but managed to keep it steady enough to be clearly heard by the demon trio. “What you’re doing - yeah, very admirable. I’d hate a traitor too.” The demons all looked fixedly each other, completely stumped. “Couldn’t even have done it myself. Just how did you do it, huh? The curse and all.” 

“You really don’t read the records do you, Crowley?” One of them inquired, snickering in the process. “It was pretty easy finding a curse to put on that angel. You’ve been a bad seed even before you became Fallen. Haven’t you forgotten how upset you’ve made us all?” This was Crowley’s only chance. Whipping around onto his back in an instant, the redhead wrapped his uninjured hand around the demon’s wrist that held the dagger, twisting it with all his might. The demon howled in agony, letting the knife clatter to the ground just inches from Crowley. He stumbled to his feet while the two other demons swiftly moved to him at the speed of light. Just a second too fast for them, he held out the dagger and painstakingly took steps backwards to where Aziraphale’s sword was, waiting there to be used. The third demon finally recovered besides having his wrist horrendously bent out of shape, Crowley very clearly having shattered the bones with the assault. All three cornered him near the entrance, visibly angry and wanting to fight. 

“Now here’s how this is gonna happen,” Crowley spoke low from his throat, his golden orange eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’m gonna pick up this sword, and you all will back up in fear, yeah? Simple enough?” The demons mocked Crowley with enraged scoffs, before deciding they were only going to trek closer. There were three of them, one of Crowley. Normally you’d think that this was a bleak situation for just one individual, but this redhead had a plan. A single peek upwards and anyone could guess his plan. 

Two of the demons lunged at him immediately, but Crowley was fast enough to swerve to the side and dodge them both, the ignited sword in hand. It burned in his palm, having been forged of Heaven’s light, but he’d only need it for a moment. The third and final demon went for the assault on Crowley, swinging for a punch to his jawline and nailed him quite hard. Catching him off guard, however, pulling his arm back and slingshotting the sword at the ceiling caused multiple of those rock icicles to tumble down all at once, distracting all four of them enough for Crowley to make haste of his escape. There was just enough time for him to snag the real antidote from the tallest male, grabbing him by the collar and pivoting him to a corner. Covering his head from the falling pillars, Crowley placed both forearms against the large boulder blocking against the entrance and heaved to move it out of the way. It badly caused his crushed hand to ache, but that didn’t matter to Crowley at the moment. He needed to escape from this damned place. Once the boulder was just a smidgen out of the way, he had just enough room to slink himself through the tunnel. 

Upon catching his breath and still hearing the demons scrabble around the collapsing room, Crowley managed to make it to the giant wall that connected it to the rest of the caves. He placed his good hand against it and cursed under his breath.  _Shit. How do I get this door to open_? He kept searching along the wall until his hand touched a block that seemed to stick out further than most. Shrugging, he pressed it hard and to his surprise, it went back inside the rock wall. Once it locked itself into the proper place, the entire wall started to lift upwards and at the smallest convenience, Crowley slide beneath it, causing a skid mark of brown and red to smear his clothes. 

“Don’t forget to send a postcard!” He hollered from the other side of the wall door, sarcastically waving and scrambling to his feet, not wasting a moment’s time in getting out of Chislehurst Caves. 

“..Now are you  _positively_ sure I’ve got to drink this? It smells horrendous.” Aziraphale twiddled his fingers nervously as he was sitting and watching Cresil work on what came across as the antidote. It had the consistency of swamp water with some funky purple goo floating around inside of it. _Just drink this and go straight back to Crowley. That’s it_. The liquid had the scent of burned rubber and wet paint all mixed into one. It made Aziraphale want to gag but he knew this must be done. 

“Aye, laddie. This be on the paper. Though some ‘o the ingredients be qui’ sketchy. Are ye ready for this?” Even the smell made Cresil scrunch up his nose while grabbing it, having donned a glove in case this nasty concoction spilled anywhere. What was happening with Crowley right now? Aziraphale started daydreaming terrors about it. Was he locked in the room for eternity? Being tortured until unconscious? The angel was freaking out in his mind, replaying all the horrible scenarios, vivid pictures of all conditions he could find Crowley in.  _Please, let him be okay_.

“Yes, I’m ready.” Cresil delicately placed the cup into Aziraphale’s hands. The cup was oddly warm like tea was, but the smell that dispersed throughout the room was awful. He eyeballed the murky liquid for a good minute before putting it up to his lips. Just a second later, the door to Aziraphale’s shop blasted open and Crowley came tumbling through, extending his hand and the cup exploded right in the angel’s face. Cresil had sharply turned at the explosion, but his mouth gaped when noticing Crowley there, bruised and winded. The angel sputtered in shock when glass aviated all over the floor, even more in disbelief over witnessing the demon just a few steps away from him, his chest straining as if he’d been running for miles. 

“Don’t say a word, angel. I’ve got the real antidote.” Crowley wasted no time striding over to Aziraphale, hurling his arms around him and smack snogging the angel on the lips. The pain lasted for a solid second or two before a mixture of cold and warm went straight down Aziraphale’s spine. It felt as if the veins that had been plaguing his shoulders retired to their normal size and disappeared completely, never to return. As soon as the two parted, Aziraphale was visibly in tears with the largest sob smile you would ever see. He didn’t hesitate to grab Crowley’s face and bear hug him straight after, the demon repeating the same actions. 

“I don’t understand, my dear— how did you— your hand—!” Aziraphale wheezed at how tightly Crowley was embracing him, nearly about to snap the angel in half. “What in Heaven’s name was I about to drink that it’s all over my shop?!” Crowley laughed and laid his forehead against the angel’s, closing both eyes fully. 

“Well, it was actually poison. Good thing I showed up to save the day, huh?” Aziraphale blinked multiple times and craned his head to peer over at Cresil who had been nonchalantly whistling and twiddling his thumbs. 

“An’ I made that poison. Sorry on ye, laddie.” The bulky demon chuckled nervously, scratching his chin. “Almos’ killed ye there!” Yet how was he meant to know. Just due to seeing it once didn’t mean he  _knew_ the antidote at all. He was a simple fellow who just _seriously_ craved a bowl of Turkish Delight right about now. 

After the duo said their heartfelt goodbyes to Cresil, Aziraphale pouring onto him thank you’s and a promise to stop by his place later with a gift, the angel forced Crowley to sit down so he could tend to his injuries. The demon took his sweet time to explain everything that happened when the cave collapsed. How they had snuck up on him and planned this from the very beginning, how the demons cursed Aziraphale, what the antidote entailed(which quite literally ended up being just a kiss) and in a big glamorous ending, how Crowley managed to escape. Aziraphale felt he might have exaggerated the ending just a tad, but was just more than happy to have his love back, safe and sound. 


	5. Carnations

♫ _Carnations rot_

_And still I think_

_That we should be_

_A king and queen_ ♫

With a cup of tea in hand, Aziraphale could finally lounge without a worry in the world. Heaven or Hell, it mattered not. It was late now with Crowley fast asleep on the sofa, his arm hanging off the side and the top of his hand lightly brushing the ground. The angel smirked at him before resting into a chair, sipping from the cup. While his partner slept, he cleaned up the mess of poison and glass from the shattered teacup from earlier. 

Aziraphale would have to admit the past few weeks had been such a blur, considering he was unconscious for most of it. Eyeing Crowley with gentle eyes, he only appreciated the demon even more than before after all he did just to keep the angel safe from harm. Even possibly losing his life in the process. Their bond was just that strong and it warmed the deepest part of Aziraphale’s heart. This whole idea was always laughable to the angel - pairing up with a demon to save the world from Armageddon, forming a friendship together, and now a relationship. Just how much better could his life get? 

The next thing Crowley knew it was dawn, a strip of sunlight creeping its way through the window and straight into his field of view. He groaned and sat up, looking at his hand that had been bandaged up completely. Damned thing still hurt pretty bad but at least it wasn’t worsening. After yawning and stretching, Crowley stood and called out for Aziraphale, but heard nothing in return. Instead, a basket of red carnations caught the demon’s gaze with a small decorative note attached to it. In very neat and cursive letters, it read: 

_Meet me in St. James Park when you see this, my dear. I hope you like them._

_Love, Your Dearest Angel._

Well, that settled Crowley’s plans for the day. After gathering everything he needed, he hastily drove to the park to meet up with Aziraphale. It was a beautiful dawn out in London this particular morning, not thick and dreary like the last few weeks had been. He felt free for once, with nay a worry in the world. The park was extremely occupied due to the great weather but Aziraphale was always easy to spot out of a crowd, at least he was to Crowley. Though this time around, he wouldn’t find the angel on a bench, but in a rather more secluded area near the river. 

A bright red picnic cloth was spread out across the lively grass with a huge array of snacks, a lunch, and multiple sweets. Crowley tilted his head but walked up to join Aziraphale on the grass, with a pleased expression painting his face. 

“Impressive, angel. Where’d you get the time to do this?” Crowley hand picked a strawberry from a woven basket and popped it straight into his mouth. Aziraphale, sitting up straight and gleeful, also decided to munch on a few fruits of choice. 

“I’m an angel, my dear. I can make quite a few miracles come true.” Pinching off a piece of a baguette, Aziraphale tossed it into the lake where a huge gathering of ducks fluttered towards it for a nibble. “It’s a thank you for always being there for me. For being - well - you.” Crowley felt his cheeks flush while admiring the simplistic beauty of the flock fiddling over a single piece of bread. 

“So, for being a demon?” He replied sarcastically, a playful smirk curling up at the edges of his thin lips. “After all, we lie, cheat, steal, - and curse people apparently. I’ll still never understand that.” The sandwiches Aziraphale had brought were absolutely scrumptious - within a minute, Crowley had already downed two of them. 

The angel reached out to touch his face and move it so they were both staring at each other directly. “Lie, cheat, steal, curse, - does not matter to me, dear. You are still my favorite.” Around this time Aziraphale would wipe the crumbs from Crowley’s face before embracing him in a short yet passionate kiss. After they broke, the angel huddled up closer to the other and rested against his arm, simply enjoying the morning sun as it rose above the bountiful foliage of St. James park. 

The two had spent a good amount of dawn at the picnic, having eaten almost all the food that Aziraphale had prepared for the both of them. The place he had picked was relatively calm in atmosphere, but you could still hear the cheers of children and pets a few feet away. It was secluded enough to spend some quality time together without being disturbed. 

“Oh, I forgot to ask, my dear. How did you like the flowers? I do know you have some plants at home, so I figured they would fit in nicely, don’t you agree?” Crowley nodded in response, helping the angel in cleaning up their picnic. 

“Definitely. You even picked my favorite color. You _have_ been paying attention after all these years!” Perhaps those carnations would be the only plant Crowley wouldn’t yell at for not growing properly. It was a gift from his beloved, after all. “Also, sorry I lost your flaming sword. I figured it would be a lesser evil rather than being stuck in a cave.” 

Aziraphale shook his head and waved dismissively. “No worries there, my dearest. Perhaps after that encounter it will be the last need I have. I seem to misplace it often anyway.” There was a nagging spark in the very back of the angel’s head, an orb of anxiety that feared those demons would return and strike again. However.. Crowley would always be at his side to protect him from all harm, and he would do the same. They were more than just best friends now - an inseparable pair. Two hearts intertwined and merged into one unbreakable mass. 

Once the duo completed cleaning up their picnic, making sure there was no litter left, it was time for them to part ways for a bit. This would give Crowley the chance to put the gifted carnations on his desk, right next to his extremely fashionable throne. Aziraphale had to return to his bookshop and work on repairs to the door (which Crowley agreed to assist with,) and catch up on some work that was missed in the last weeks. It would become busy for the two partners, but that would never make them love each other any less than they already did. 

“‘Course you’ve got to be the perfect one, and all.” Crowley commented on the angel, watching his figure from the side with a dreamy skim over both reptilian eyes. Aziraphale snickered and sauntered to the demon, who was now upstanding, embracing him into an affectionate clutch. 

“Far from perfect, dear. Though I do appreciate the compliment.” Aziraphale desired to never break this embrace. After their whole ordeal of not being able to touch each other, this felt like a brand new experience. One he longed for ever since meeting Crowley and now safely being able to execute it in the way he’d always imagined. It wasn’t long before they were wrapped in a much tighter lock and enmeshed in a deep soul kiss under the daylight’s shining rays. 

♫ _I’m thinking maybe_

_I could fall asleep_

_With you_

__ _Right next to me forever_ ♫

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u all for reading!! i hope u enjoyed this fic!! i rly put a lot of work into it! maybe one day as an angel i’ll write another ~


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